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That seemed to change something in her. Maybe the desperate, but hard edge to my words. My determination to make sure she was okay.
“Okay,” she said, rattling off an address. “She… she likes Big Gulps of soda,” she said, giving me a nod.
“Got it,” I agreed, nodding. “If you give me your number, I will text you what I find out,” I told her.
She jumped on that, rattling it off.
“Hey, Cato,” she called as I got to the door.
“Yeah?” I asked, turning back.
“You’re really good for her,” she said, giving me a small smile.
“I really like her,” I admitted.
Then I was off, getting on my bike, and taking the short ride toward her building, a tall apartment complex, all white walls and big panes of glass reflecting the lights of the city back at me.
I did stop at the convenience store at the corner, grabbing her drink and some of that damn cheddar popcorn, then making my way into her building.
It struck me again how little I knew about her work, about how she made her money. But, clearly, she made a lot of it. Because this place was fucking lush. Even the smallest apartments had to be going for a couple grand a month. And Rynn was up in one of the two penthouses.
I rode the elevator up, listening to the classical music on the speaker as I went, surprised by how nervous I was to show up at her door.
What if she didn’t answer?
Did I force my way in?
To check on her? To make sure she was alright?
Especially if Josie was worried about her. Josie whodidknow what the nature of her job was, what dangers were involved, what kind of trouble Rynn could have gotten into.
It could be bad.
And if she needed some sort of help, we had to get that for her.
I walked down the hallway between the two penthouse apartments, both of them managing to have ocean views thanks to the way they were laid out, and found my way to Rynn’s, smirking down at her welcome mat. Black with white writing that saidThere’s no reason for you to be here.
Taking a deep breath, I knocked on the white door. Once. Twice. Three times.
Then a fourth.
Why the fuck wasn’t she answering?
Casting a glance toward the neighbor’s door, I started to reach in my wallet.
I’d been carrying a small lock pick set since I was a kid. I was decent enough at it. Though who knew what other kinds of locks she might have on a door in this fancy-ass apartment building.
I listened, figuring I would give her another minute to come. She could be sleeping or in the bathroom or something. But when she didn’t come, I found the picks, put the drink and popcorn down, and got to work.
It gave, and swung slightly open, no extra locks to worry about.
I was just standing back up from grabbing her drink and popcorn when I saw it.
A slash of blood on the inner molding of the door.
“Fuck,” I hissed, moving inside.
While, yes, the building itself might have been white and bright and sunny, it came as no surprise to me that Josie’s apartment itself was more like her office.
